


Han Solo Would be Proud

by canistakahari



Series: Bones-breaks-a-leg-'verse [7]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy spends quality time with his own hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Han Solo Would be Proud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [norfolkdumpling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norfolkdumpling/gifts).



> This is a missing scene from [Run (I'm a Natural Disaster)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/522339).

Leonard isn’t looking when he hurls his phone away. He doesn’t want to see where it goes because then if it rings again he’ll feel compelled to hunt it out. If it’s lost, then he can legitimately ignore it.   
  
 _Why_ , he thinks wearily,  _why do I even have to justify these things to myself? I don’t have to answer my phone if I’m masturbating._    
  
Masturbating.  
  
Lube. He needs lube.   
  
With a huffed groan, Leonard rolls over onto his back and scoots up the rumpled bedclothes until he’s got his head mostly on the pillow. With one hand jammed down the front of his jeans, he reaches with the other into the bedside drawer and extracts the tube of lubricant, popping the cap off with his thumb and squeezing a dollop into his hand.   
  
He lets go of his cock long enough to shimmy down his jeans and underwear, sighing as he wraps his slick palm around the heated flesh of his cock.   
  
This would be better, he can’t help thinking, if it was  _Jim’s_  hand wrapped around his cock. Leonard closes his eyes, presses himself down into the mattress, imagines Jim straddling his hips with his slim thighs, his hand squeezing and stroking Leonard’s cock as he grins down at him with those blue eyes and those kiss-swollen lips, those flushed cheeks.   
  
It’s Jim’s clever fingers working his erection, cupping his balls and rubbing the pad of his thumb into the slit, while Leonard smothers a moan in the pillow and thrusts his hips into the tight circle of his fist. It’s Jim’s touch all over him, possessive and demanding. It’s Jim’s index finger slipping down lower to press teasingly over his hole, dipping inside to stretch the clutch of muscle.  
  
Leonard grunts and tosses his head, finds himself muttering, “yesyes _yes_ , please, fuck me, Jim!” under his breath as he squirms restlessly.  
  
 _It’s not enough, goddammit._  
  
With a frustrated whine, Leonard spreads his legs carefully and then pushes one finger inside the tight heat of his hole, crooking his finger to stroke roughly over his prostate.   
  
His cock fills to the point of near-painful hardness at the resulting rush of arousal, throbbing hot and heavy in the messy grip of his hand.  _Jim’s_  hand.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispers, turning his face into the pillow. “Fuck,  _Jim_ , yes.”  
  
Would Jim like seeing him like this? Fucked-out and wrecked on just Jim’s memory, the smell of his skin and the slick plushness of his lips as he’d shoved Leonard up against the wall and tasted ever inch of his mouth. Leonard chases Jim’s lingering presence, wants it for himself, under his skin and inside his heart.  
  
Leonard curls fingers tacky with lube over the length of his cock and starts to pump in earnest, a hard rhythm that has him arching his hips and curling his toes, muscles clenching as orgasm builds in a slow crest of sensation.   
  
Getting himself off is something Leonard’s known how to do since he was a teenager; it’s a matter of course, now, and he can do it in under a minute if he needs quick relief.   
  
But this flooding of his senses is something else entirely, Jim’s laugh echoing in his ear as his mouth drops open, caught on a bitten-off groan. This is  _Jim_ , painted all over him, claiming him with just a smile and a wink.   
  
When Leonard comes over his fist with a strangled cry and light bursting behind his eyelids it’s Jim that’s responsible.  
  
Somewhere across the room, Leonard’s phone buzzes, but he just huffs a satisfied sigh and closes his eyes, rolling over onto his side and drifting off into blessed sleep.


End file.
